Which School?
by Majick
Summary: Every year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a few Muggle-born children are chosen to join the new students. Today, Professor McGonagall must go and tell one young girl that she's really a witch. The girl's name? Hermione Granger. :: Complete!
1. Prologue

**__**

Prologue

Albus Dumbledore's office door opened. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry walked in and stood before Dumbledore's desk.

"Minerva, good morning to you," Dumbledore said, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"Good morning Albus."

"A lovely day, isn't it? You are here for your assignment, I imagine?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Hagrid and Professor Flitwick are preparing the letters and the owls. I understand that you had a particular child you wished me to visit."

"Indeed. A most. . . interesting case. A young girl who won't turn eleven until the middle of September."

McGonagall peered at Dumbledore curiously.

"Albus, we have rules for a reason. A child must finish her primary education before we can summon her to Hogwarts. Children under that age often have trouble adjusting to life here."

"This child is preparing to begin Muggle secondary school, Minerva. She is intelligent, oh my, yes, and mature as well. Two years ago she was moved ahead in her school by one year. Besides, there have been. . . incidents."

Minerva McGonagall waited. Albus Dumbledore was an old friend, and she well understood his occasional tendency for the dramatic, even if she didn't condone it.

"I am led to believe that she has been the target of bullying. She doesn't speak of it to her parents. She is rather ashamed, which is sadly an all too common reaction, as you know. And so there have been incidents."

McGonagall nodded. When an untrained witch or wizard was placed under stress, they would often perform instinctive magic as a defence or distraction. In some cases this had been extremely advanced magic which had taken a great deal of effort to reverse.

"This particular young lady managed to grow one girl's ears by over a foot in diameter. Happily, it was merely a temporary change, and yet it has led to her being still further ostracised by her fellow students. There have been other incidents, but this was the most striking." Dumbledore said. 

"Certainly it is advanced transfiguration for such a young child," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "You are sure you want her to come this year, Albus?"

"She would not enjoy Muggle secondary school," Dumbledore said. His gaze seemed to lose focus for a long moment, as though his mind had gone somewhere else. "No, she is far better off coming here, or at least being given another option to choose from."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well, Albus. I take it that she is a Muggle?"

"She is. Her parents are both dentists, and the story of how they met is most amusing. There is no trace of any wizarding blood in their family, so they will be quite unprepared for your arrival."

"You have her details?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replied, handing over two heavy envelopes. McGonagall looked at the name on the first envelope, the standard Hogwarts letter sent to all potential students.

"Miss Hermione Granger," she read aloud. "Very well, Miss Granger, I do hope that you like surprises."

To be continued. . .


	2. Chapter One: The Fourth Option

**__**

Which School?

Chapter One: The Fourth Option

Hermione Granger sat on the window seat in her bedroom. She was poring over a thick book on Germany, where the Granger family would be taking their summer holiday that year. It was the start of the summer, and Hermione had six wonderful weeks free from school. Her brow creased slightly as she thought of the three folders of information sitting in the living room.

The first was the standard information sent out to all potential pupils of the local girls' secondary school. Hermione had already decided she wasn't going to go there. Susie Andrews and the other girls in her class would be going there, and Hermione definitely did not want another seven years in the same school as them.

The second folder had information about the comprehensive school in the next town over from hers. It would mean longer travel every day, and as the school was mixed, she'd have to take classes with boys as well as girls. On the whole, Hermione didn't mind boys. They could be very stupid at times, but they didn't pick on her as much as girls did. Still, she wasn't sure she liked the idea of being in a secondary school with them. She suspected that the other girls would become increasingly giggly as they grew up, 'fancying' boys and going out with them. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked that idea very much.

The third, and last, folder was for an all girls boarding school in Devon, more than a hundred miles away from her home in Oxford. Hermione thought that she liked the sound of this school the best, but it seemed to place an awful lot of emphasis on sports, and Hermione wasn't very fond of sports. She also wasn't sure that she liked the idea of spending months at a time away from her parents.

All in all, Hermione wasn't at all sure that she wanted to go to any secondary school. 

Sighing, she focused on her book again, knowing that she would have to make her decision before she left for Germany in two weeks time. Distantly, she heard the doorbell ring, but didn't pay attention. No one ever rang for her. It would probably be someone looking for an appointment at her parent's dental practise next door. No, she'd let her mum handle that. Much nicer to be reading about the fairy tale castle in Bavaria that had supposedly been the inspiration for the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale.

Hermione wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she still enjoyed reading fairy tales. So often the heroine was beautiful and kind and loved by all. It seemed like such an idyllic life, and Hermione had always dreamed of living in a castle. She stared intently at the Bavarian castle, counting the towers, trying to work out how many rooms such a place might contain, trying to work out-

"Hermione! Can we see you down here, please?"

Hermione looked up. It was her mum. She set her book aside slowly, hoping that it wasn't another neighbour complaining about something the 'weird child' had done. She hadn't been out of the house since holidays had begun, in case something happened.

That was another reason Hermione wasn't looking forward to secondary school. How would a whole new group of children react to a girl to whom weird things seemed destined to happen?

Hermione made her way downstairs, in no hurry to find out what her mum wanted to see her for. She felt extremely nervous, as though whatever was waiting for her in the kitchen -she could hear the chink of teacups on saucers- was going to be very, very big trouble.

She hoped it wasn't Mrs Walker. Her cat had only been pink for a day, after all, and Hermione had taken good care of it until it recovered.

Slowly, wishing nothing more than to be back in her room, Hermione opened the kitchen door slightly and peered through the gap. Her mother was chatting happily to a middle-aged lady in rather severe clothes. Hermione didn't recognise the lady, but her sharp eyes and thin lips made her look rather stern. Slowly, Hermione opened the door further, and stepped into the kitchen.

"Hermione, this is Professor McGonagall. Professor, my daughter Hermione," Hermione's mum said.

"Miss Granger, I have heard much about you," McGonagall said. "I am given to understand that you are quite a singular young girl."

Hermione nodded. She didn't really understand, but she didn't want to appear stupid. 

"You do exceedingly well in school, I believe?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione nodded again.

"She was moved ahead a year when she was eight," Mrs Granger said proudly.

"How has that been, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, turning a piercing gaze on Hermione, who coloured slightly. She had a feeling that this strange woman knew exactly how it had been. Professor McGonagall? Professor of what? Was she a social worker? Was she here to take Hermione away?

"Fine," she declared fiercely. "I'm much happier to be studying at a higher level. In fact, I'm sure I could study even higher still and not have any problems."

"Hermione is very intelligent," Mrs Granger said, still more proudly.

"Indeed," McGonagall said, studying Hermione closely. "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you ever have any problems with the other children in your class?"

"No," Hermione said, having decided that this stranger was trying to cause trouble. "I get on fine with everyone."

"Indeed?" McGonagall replied. Mrs Granger was watching the two of them with a slight look of concern on her face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Mrs Granger, you said that your husband would be home soon?"

"Oh yes. It's Saturday, and we only have a surgery in the mornings. He should be finishing around now, in fact," she said with a look at the kitchen clock.

Hermione had butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run away, to lock herself in her room, but she wasn't going to leave this McGonagall woman alone with her mother. She watched McGonagall take a sip of her tea, and grimace slightly.

"Would you like some sugar in your tea?" she asked, forcing politeness into her voice.

"Er, yes, if there is any, thank you," McGonagall replied, slightly surprised.

"Oh, do forgive me," Mrs Granger said, springing up. "We hardly use it ourselves. It's bad for your teeth, you know."

"So I have been told," McGonagall replied. Something about the way she said this made Hermione giggle slightly, and McGonagall looked at her carefully.

There was the sound of the front door opening and shutting as Mrs Granger carefully put a half a teaspoon of sugar in McGonagall's tea. Mr Granger strode into the kitchen, looking very pleased with himself.

"Well, that's one less tooth that'll have to be pulled," he said in a very satisfied tone. He bent down to hug Hermione, and then kissed his wife. Finally, he noticed Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said. "I'm Peter Granger."

"Minerva McGonagall," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm a Professor at Hogwarts School in Scotland."

"Really?" Mr Granger asked, looking slightly nonplussed. "Hogwarts? I can't say it rings a bell. Did we, er, did we apply to you? For Hermione, I mean?"

"Not exactly," McGonagall smiled slightly at Hermione. "Entry to Hogwarts is by invitation only. Your daughter, Hermione, has been brought to our attention as a very promising student."

Mr Granger puffed up with pride. "Well, yes, she's a very intelligent girl, works hard, and we're very proud of her."

"Good," McGonagall said. "However, as I'm sure you're aware, there have been, well, some unusual incidents with which Hermione has been involved."

Hermione's heart sank. She hated having people talk about the 'unusual incidents'. She stepped behind her father's chair, putting him between herself and McGonagall.

Mr Granger took a seat opposite McGonagall, his expression suddenly very serious. "Now see here, my daughter was not at fault. She's a good girl, and she's not to be blamed for anything that brat Susie Andrews gets up to."

"You are right, in a way," McGonagall said, folding her arms. "Although Hermione is not to be blamed for these incidents, she is most certainly the cause."

Mr Granger looked ready to explode, barely restraining himself from ordering McGonagall from the house.

"Perhaps it would be easier for me to show you what I mean," McGonagall sighed. "Miss Granger, when I had a sip of my tea earlier, you asked me if I wanted sugar. Why was that?"

"Well, Mum and Dad never offer it to people," Hermione said. "And you made a face."

"Indeed. I must say, I am used to having rather a lot of sugar in my tea. As I grow older, I find it is useful in providing me with the energy I need to keep up with my students. Now, if you'll excuse me. . ."

McGonagall drew a long stick from her handbag. Hermione watched her wave the tip of it above her teacup, and then say "_Sucro!_"

Hermione's eyes widened as first one, then a second, and finally a third white cube formed at the tip of the stick, and then dropped into the teacup. McGonagall put away the stick and stirred the cup before taking a sip and looking up at Hermione with a smile.

"Er. . ." Mrs Granger said. Mr Granger looked thoroughly confused.

"That," McGonagall said, setting the cup down, "was magic. That is also what Hermione has been doing, albeit without realising it."

"Magic?" Mrs Granger asked, as though from a great distance. Mr Granger looked at his wife, but quickly returned his attention to McGonagall.

"I, _we_, don't understand."

"I don't blame you," McGonagall said kindly. "Hermione is a witch, Hogwarts is a school for young witches and wizards where my colleagues and I teach them how to control magic, how to use it, and so on."

"It's," Mr Granger began, before pausing. "I'm sorry, it's a lot to believe. I mean, _magic_?"

"Would you like to see more?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes!"

It had been Hermione who answered, as quickly as she could. McGonagall nodded, and drew out her magic wand once more.

"Well then, Miss Granger, what would you like to see?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. Her mind raced. Could it be true? Was it possible? Was it some kind of amazing joke? "Something big," she said at last. "That sugar could have been a trick. I'd like to see something that couldn't possibly be a trick."

McGonagall stood up, and walked around the side of the kitchen table. Mr and Mrs Granger stood up as well, stepping away from McGonagall as she tapped her wand against her chin. Mr Granger pushed Hermione behind him, shielding her from anything McGonagall did. Hermione stuck her head under her dad's arm to see whatever McGonagall did.

"Ah, yes," McGonagall said, peering closely at her reflection in the kitchen mirror. "Something big, Miss Granger? Well then, how does this suit you?"

McGonagall crouched, and then, impossibly, she seemed to be shrinking. 

And changing.

Mrs Granger shrieked as McGonagall disappeared, and in her place sat a proud looking tabby cat. Hermione pushed past her father, and dropped to her knees in front of the cat, reaching out to touch it -"Hermione!" her father hissed- and scratching it behind the ears. The cat purred contentedly, before shaking its head in a very human way. Suddenly, it started to grow, and a few seconds later Professor McGonagall stood before them once more. 

Hermione stood up, and took a step back. She looked up at McGonagall and giggled. Where previously the older woman's hair had been in a rigid bun, it now was rather messy where Hermione had scratched the cat behind the ears.

"Yes, well," McGonagall said, tapping her head with her wand. The Grangers watched in fascination as the hair tidied itself back into an impeccable bun.

"Can you teach me that?" Hermione asked, entranced. Her own hair was rather bushy and unmanageable, and the idea of being able to cast a spell and have it tidy itself up was very appealing. Could she really learn to do it? Was she really a witch, like this woman before her?

"Perhaps," McGonagall said. "Magically altering any part of your body, even your hair, is very complex magic. Many witches and wizards cannot master it, and indeed being able to do it is far from an essential part of everyday life."

"So. . . What can magic be used for?" Mr Granger asked, still reeling slightly from seeing the woman standing before him transform into a cat and back again.

By the sounds of it, Hermione thought as McGonagall reeled off a long list, everything. Eventually, McGonagall paused to take a breath, and Hermione put up her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"When do I start?"

To be continued. . .


	3. Chapter Two: Shopping

**__**

Chapter Two: Shopping 

It had taken the rest of that day and quite a lot of the next for all of the Granger's questions about magic to be answered. Professor McGonagall had arranged the loan of an owl for them, in case they had any further questions, and the poor bird had quickly been dispatched with a long list of additional questions, many of which had already been answered.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall had offered to accompany Hermione on her first trip to Diagon Alley, where they would collect all of her schoolbooks and then have a meal with Hermione's parents.

Hermione loved travelling down to London with her parents on the train. She read a book that Professor McGonagall had leant her, a book called _Modern Magical History_. She read about the twentieth century from a magical point of view; how the Second World War had run parallel to a conflict between the Dark Wizard Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts and the most respected wizard for centuries. Then she read about how soon after Grindelwald's fall, rumours of a new Dark Lord had filtered out of central Europe; and how, just ten years ago, a baby boy only a few weeks older than Hermione herself had killed that wizard.

Hermione paused on reading this, and stared out of the window. There was a dark side to the wizarding world, as there was to the Muggle world. But it seemed that that part was behind them. Ten years after Voldemort's fall -she didn't like the name. She'd say You-Know-Who, and show that not all Muggle-borns were ignorant- it seemed that that was all behind them. All thanks to Harry Potter.

*

Professor McGonagall was waiting on the platform as the Grangers' train pulled into Euston station. The four of them went to a small hotel off Piccadilly and turned in for an early night.

The next morning, Hermione was awake very early. She read and reread the most recent chapters in _Modern Magical History_. She didn't want to seem ignorant if a wizard or witch asked her a question,

By the time the Grangers and Professor McGonagall finished breakfast -Hermione was too excited to eat more than a half-slice of toast- Hermione was ready for anything.

Except for the Leaky Cauldron.

A small, dingy pub that seemed to exude an air of gloominess, Hermione could scarcely have been more disappointed with her entrance to the wizarding world, even the colourful patrons, who greeted Professor McGonagall like an old friend, didn't really raise her spirits very much. Was this what she had to look forward to?

The wizened old barman nodded to her. "Course, you're not the first new student we've had through here today, not by a long chalk, Miss Granger."

There was a loud murmur of assent. Hermione thought she detected an excited buzz beneath it, an undertone of gossip that she suspected would spread far beyond the grimy walls of the Leaky Cauldron before the day was over.

"I suppose Harry Potter came through today, didn't he?" Hermione asked. There was an astonished silence.

"Now, how did you know that?" an elderly witch asked from one corner of the pub. "Are you a Seer?"

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Doris Crockford," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Hermione, you've read that book I leant you, yes?"

"That's right," Hermione said. "And it told me all about Harry Potter, about how he's my age. I thought that he'd be starting at Hogwarts this year, and as you were all seemed so excited about a first year pupil, I thought that it was probably him who came through, rather than anyone else who banished a Dark Wizard when he was a year old."

She said all this rather fast, and there was a thoughtful pause as the Leaky Cauldron's customers digested what she had said.

"Well then," Tom the barman said, eventually. "I don't reckon you'll be wanting to keep Miss Granger here for too long, Professor. A mind like hers, you need to get it out in the fresh air. Get her down to Flourish & Blotts, I'd say. Plenty of books to keep her busy."

"Yes, thank you Tom," Professor McGonagall said, a shade coldly.

"And Miss Granger?" Tom said, as they headed towards the back of the pub.

"Yes?"

"Please, bring your parents back tonight. I'll fix you a meal in one of the back parlours. It's a bit nicer than the main bar. On the house, of course."

"Thank you," Hermione said a little uncertainly. McGonagall smiled at her young charge.

"Fifty years I've been going to the Leaky Cauldron," she told Hermione as they went out of the back door and into a small back yard stacked haphazardly with barrels and crates. "Fifty years, and I've only seen him give out two free meals before now. The first was for Albus Dumbledore, when Grindelwald was defeated. The other was for James and Lily Potter on their wedding day and that only when he lost a bet to James' best man. Clearly you've impressed him, Miss Granger."

Hermione cheered up at this, although she did wonder why they were standing in the middle of a pub store yard. She asked, and McGonagall smiled.

"This is the entry to Diagon Alley, Miss Granger. Watch carefully, because in future, you shall be doing this yourself."

McGonagall rapped several bricks with her wand. Hermione watched carefully, noting the order, and noting that the bricks were discoloured slightly. Then she smiled as she realised that they weren't discoloured, rather they were cleaner than the surrounding bricks. She supposed that if this were the only entrance to Diagon Alley, so many witches and wizards had tapped the bricks with their wands that they would never had the chance to get dirty.

And then the wall before them shuddered, and folded, and all thoughts of clean and dirty bricks disappeared from Hermione's mind.

*

It was quite the most amazing place that Hermione had ever seen. She kept turning around, not wanting to miss anything. She peered through the windows of all of the shops, desperate to take it all in, knowing she'd never be able to explain it all to her parents when they met up that evening. The trip to Gringotts, the goblin bank, had been quite the most exciting thing she'd ever experienced. It had been like walking into Aladdin's cave, and she couldn't stop staring at the strange wizarding money as they walked back out into Diagon Alley.

"Ron! George! Behave yourselves!"

"Oww!"

"Mu-ummm!"

"Problems, Molly?"

Hermione looked up from the Knuts, Sickles and Galleons to see McGonagall talking to a short red-haired woman, who was casually holding an ear of each of two boys, both much taller than her, but clearly unwilling to try to break free.

"Bless you, no, Minerva. A mother's work is never done."

"Hello!"

Hermione looked around, and smiled at the red-haired girl in front of her.

"Hello," she replied. "I'm Hermione."

"Ginny," the redhead replied. "Is that your mum?"

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione laughed. "No, she's a witch, well, I suppose everyone here is magic. But she's a teacher. She's brought me here to do my shopping for school."

"Oh, are you going to Hogwarts?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. I didn't know until a few days ago. No one in my family is a witch or wizard."

"You're a Muggle-born?" Ginny asked, her eyes widening.

"A what?"

"Someone born in a non-magical family."

"Oh, yes, I suppose I am," Hermione said.

"It must be fun, living in the non-magic world," Ginny said. "Do you have a big family?"

"No, just me and my parents."

"Lucky! I've got six brothers."

"Gosh. You must know a lot of magic, if they're all wizards."

"They are, well, four of them are at school. Ron's starting this year. That's him with mum."

Hermione looked up, but the red-haired woman had let go of her captives, and now there was just a sea of red-haired boys around her and McGonagall.

"Are you at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"No, I'm not old enough," Ginny replied. "Next year, mum says."

"Ginny? Ginny, dear. Come on. We've lots to do."

"Oh, I'd better go. Nice to meet you!" Ginny ran over to the crowd of boys, and jumped onto the back of the tallest one, who staggered forwards, but held her with a long-suffering air. She waved gaily from her perch as they went on their way, and Hermione waved back until they disappeared from view.

Her first real conversation with a witch. Even if she was only the same age as Hermione herself. It was just like the Muggle world, she thought, slipping the new word in unconsciously, as she always did with new words she encountered.

"A very well respected family," McGonagall said. "The Weasleys. Both Molly and Arthur were students of mine, and now their youngest boy is starting at Hogwarts. Time flies, Miss Granger. Let that be your first lesson from a member of our faculty. Time always moves onwards. We can't get it back, so we must use it wisely."

Hermione nodded. She knew all about using her time wisely. She read constantly, always trying to learn new things. Not like Susie Andrews, who wasted time and was always in trouble.

"Now, here's your list. What shall we buy first?"

Hermione looked down the list. She wanted more than anything to get her wand, but knew that she should wait and savour the anticipation.

"Could we get my robes?"

Madame Malkin was delighted to measure up the newest Hogwarts student, and gossiped happily with Hermione about all the famous witches and wizards who had bought their first set of robes from her shop. The names didn't mean very much to Hermione, but she enjoyed being fussed over, and giggled slightly when Madame Malkin complimented her on her hair. "So thick and strong. That hair will look good no matter what you do with it."

Leaving the robe shop, they passed a tall blonde man who walked along with his nose in the air. A blonde boy with a pointed face that had a particularly unpleasant expression on it trailed behind him. Hermione was glad that she was able to give them a wide berth.

Next they bought a cauldron and a basic set of ingredients, along with various ladles and spoons that clattered loudly in the cauldron as they walked. A bookshop called Flourish and Blotts had a full set of first year textbooks stacked and ready for sale on the counter, which gave Hermione and McGonagall time to browse in the shop. Hermione spent more than twice what she had spent on her textbooks picking up additional books. She was sure that she would be very far behind the other children, like Ginny's brother Ron. 

__

Imagine growing up in a wizard family! They must know so much. I'll just have to work very hard to catch up.

"Hagrid!"

McGonagall hailed a huge man who was standing outside Madame Malkin's shop with an ice cream cone in each hand. He waved to a black haired boy inside - Hermione noticed that the boy was standing with the blonde boy she'd seen earlier, and supposed that they were friends - and greeted McGonagall heartily. The two chatted for a minute or so, while Hermione looked longingly at the next shop in the parade. _Ollivander's_, the sign read. _Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC_

Eventually, McGonagall and the giant man bid farewell to each other, and he walked on with the black haired boy in tow.

"Rubeus Hagrid," McGonagall said. "He's the Hogwarts groundskeeper. And that boy with him," she gave Hermione a significant look. "Well, he is Harry Potter."

"Oh," Hermione said. "He looks very ordinary."

"Indeed he does," McGonagall said. "It's quite a mystery how he managed to defeat You-Know-Who."

They went on, and Hermione was pleased to see McGonagall turning to go into Ollivander's. All thoughts of mysterious black haired boys were driven from her mind. Hundreds, if not thousands of boxes lined the walls. It took Hermione several long moments to realise someone had come to stand in front of her.

"Miss Granger, welcome," the man said, extending a cold, dry hand for her to shake. "I am Mr Ollivander. I believe I have the very wand for you."

He drew a box from behind his back and held it out, removing the lid. Inside, lay a slim black wand.

"Finest ash," Mr Ollivander said. "Nine inches, and a core of unicorn hair. Give it a wave, and see what happens."

Hermione waved the wand. Nothing happened.

"Ah, most unusual. May I enquire as to your birthday, Miss Granger?"

"The nineteenth of September, nineteen-eighty," Hermione replied.

"Nineteen-eighty? Nineteen-_eighty_? Why, that explains it. Just wait one moment, please."

He vanished into the back of the shop, and was gone for several minutes. Hermione looked questioningly at Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Ollivander and Professor Dumbledore are old friends, and, just like Dumbledore, Mr Ollivander possesses a certain dramatic flair. I understand that he likes to have a wand ready for all his customers, whenever he can. It rather appears that you may have surprised him somewhat."

"Oh."

Ollivander reappeared, another box in his hands. "This may be more suitable," he said. "Fourteen inches, willow, one unicorn tail-hair. An unusually long wand for a young witch such as yourself, but nevertheless. . ."

Hermione took the proffered wand, and felt it tingle in her hand. She waved it, and a shower of sparks fired from the end.

"Ah, there we are," Ollivander said. "Now, let me see, that will be seven Galleons and eight Sickles, thank you very much."

*

The rest of the day was full of incident. Hermione explored Diagon Alley to its fullest extent, and on her third trip through Flourish and Blotts, she bought a magical diary that would preserve her thoughts indefinitely, saving the expense of buying a new diary every year.

Then the Grangers arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, and for the first time were introduced to the wider wizarding world. It was all rather a lot to take in, especially when Hermione talked excitedly of the goblins that guarded Gringotts, and Hagrid the Hogwarts groundskeeper. But they were happy for Hermione, especially how enthusiastic she now was about going to secondary school. It hadn't escaped either of her parents' attention that she hadn't been particularly happy about the prospect before Professor McGonagall entered their lives.

It was a very happy Granger family that, with Professor McGonagall accompanying them, returned to Euston station the following day for the trip back to Oxford.

"I shall drop in one day after your holiday," McGonagall promised. "In case you have any further questions, or Miss Granger has run out of spellbooks to read."

The Grangers smiled, and bid the stern looking witch farewell. Hermione waved until the train had pulled out of the station. She thought, although she wasn't sure, that at the very last second, McGonagall had actually disappeared, just before the point that she would have disappeared behind a steel tower.

To be continued. . .


	4. Chapter Three: Confrontations

**__**

Chapter Three: Confrontations

Germany was wonderful. Hermione approached everything with a new enthusiasm. One evening in Munich, she dragged her father down a dingy back alley, well away from the usual tourist sites. An elderly woman looked up as they entered her dusty, nondescript shop.

"Du bist vu?" the woman asked, her accent very thick.

"Hogwarts," Hermione replied proudly.

"Ah, one of Dumbledore's young children," the woman smiled, her accent now impeccably English. "And what would you like to see?"

"Everything," Hermione said at once.

The woman's smile widened, and she drew a wand that she flicked at a far corner of the shop, illuminating a large set of shelves, filled to overflowing with weighty looking books. Hermione's mouth was suddenly very dry. When Professor McGonagall had mentioned this place, she had never imagined that it would be so big. There was so much to learn!

The Grangers stayed in Munich for another five days, and Hermione returned to the old witch's shop every chance she got. Her parents went with her, and both of them read the books as well. 

On their last night in Munich, Mr and Mrs Granger came into Hermione's room, where she was rereading _Modern Magical History_ for the fifth time.

"Hermione," Mr Granger began, uneasily.

"Yes, dad?"

"Are you really sure that you want to go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course!" Hermione said immediately.

"The wizarding world seems rather dangerous," Mrs Granger said.

"It's a lot safer with Professor Dumbledore around," Hermione said, carefully.

"It's just. . . All that we've read seems to be about evil wizards," Mr Granger went on. "And one of the books that I read today says that some wizards are really unpleasant to people who aren't from wizarding families. We're just not sure that we want you exposed to that sort of world."

"So you're saying that I can't go?" Hermione asked, feeling her lip tremble and hating herself for it.

"Oh, of course not," Mrs Granger said unhappily. "But, oh, just be sure it's what you want. Don't be taken in by women changing shape and books full of adventure."

Hermione nodded unhappily.

"We'll leave you to think about it," Mr Granger said, standing up. "Sleep well, princess."

Mr and Mrs Granger were about to leave, when Hermione spoke up.

"Dad, shouldn't a princess live in a castle?"

"You're not to be swayed, are you?" her father asked. 

"No. I need to learn to control the magic. And it just sounds so much _fun!_ Did you hear how big the library at Hogwarts is?"

Mr and Mrs Granger exchanged helpless looks.

"You can have your castle, princess," Mr Granger said at last.

"Thank you," Hermione said, seriously. "I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't have any reason to get involved with all the trouble, do I?"

"No, I suppose you don't. Sleep well."

"And you!"

*

There were only a few days left of the summer holidays. Hermione walked happily through a park by her home. She took a seat in the shade of a willow tree, half-hidden inside its long, low hanging branches, and started to read one of the less conspicuous of her textbooks, _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_. 

"Look everyone, it's mangy Granger! Where have you been hiding, mangy Granger?"

Hermione looked up slowly. In front of the willow tree stood Susie Andrews and her pack of followers. Hermione smiled to herself. Susie appeared to be taking her move to secondary school a little too seriously; She appeared to have raided her big sister's bedroom. Her face was coated in a thick layer of makeup, her nails were long, garishly painted and obviously fake, and the clothes she was wearing. . . 

Hermione giggled. She didn't know a great deal about fashion, but she did know that Susie looked absolutely stupid.

"What's so funny, Granger?"

Hermione didn't say anything. She didn't think that it would be a good idea to provoke Susie at all. Eventually, she said "Nothing, Susie."

"What did I tell you, Granger?" Susie spat.

Hermione frowned slightly, the familiar feeling of frustration bubbling up inside her.

"You wanted me to call you Miss Andrews," she said, injecting boredom into her voice.

"That's right," Susie smirked. She scratched one arm with her long, false fingernails. "Well?"

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione erupted, springing to her feet as years of frustration boiling to the surface. "Don't you think you're being a bit ridiculous? You're acting like you're special in some way, but you're not! You're just a nasty, spiteful, mean and rather stupid girl. And you look like an idiot!"

Susie's eyes narrowed. "Hold her," she barked. Two of her friends, large girls who played for the school hockey team, stepped forward and grabbed at Hermione's arms. They didn't get closer than a foot before whimpering, and backing away.

"What's the matter with you?" Susie growled, as the girls massaged their suddenly bright pink arms. Both looked as though they had been badly sunburned.

Susie stepped forward, and recoiled instantly with a shriek. She rubbed her own arms furiously, scratching herself with her long fingernails. 

"Go away," Hermione said calmly, boredom returning to her voice. "Go away, go to school, and grow up. But leave me alone, do you understand that?"

The girls looked at her in surprise and horror. They exchanged looks with Susie, who was blistered and scratched, and as one the entire gang turned and fled.

Susie stared at Hermione, fear etched across her face.

"You didn't. . ." she gasped. "I mean, you couldn't. . ."

"Who knows," Hermione said, sitting back down on her bench and picking up her book again. She looked at the book, rather than Susie as she said; "I may have done. Do you want to try and touch me again and find out?"

Susie swallowed, and appeared to decide that she didn't. She turned and, as fast as her ridiculous high-heeled shoes allowed, ran off in the wake of her gang.

"You do realise, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, stepping out from behind the willow tree. "You have broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic?"

"Until I start Hogwarts, I'm not under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic," Hermione said promptly, not seeming at all surprised by McGonagall's appearance. "Have you come to ask me if I still want to go to Hogwarts?"

"Is the question necessary?"

"I don't think so."

"Very well. Shall we go and see your parents?"

"Yes, okay."

They walked through the park, heading back to the Grangers' house.

"You should be careful, Miss Granger," McGonagall said. "Such intelligence can be a blessing, but it can also lead a person into trouble."

"I won't have time for trouble," Hermione said. "I'll be far too busy with my work. Besides, Professor Dumbledore's at Hogwarts. What could go wrong with him there?"

"That, at least, is true Miss Granger. Now, tell me, which of your subjects are you most looking forward to?"

"I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration," Hermione replied immediately.

McGonagall eyed her beadily, but saw only earnest honesty in her expression.

"Very well, Miss Granger, I can see that I shall have to warn the staff about you."

"What do you mean?"

"They will have to be on their toes around you, that's all. Do try not to get too bored with your work, Miss Granger. I hate to think what would happen if you became interested in any extra-curricular events."

"You mean like sports?" Hermione asked. "I don't really like sports very much."

"Miss Granger, Hogwarts is a school of magic. Believe me when I say that this presents an almost limitless potential for extracurricular activities."

"Such as?"

McGonagall sighed. "Well, may I just say, if you happen to find yourself in the company of any of the Weasley family, do try and take after young Percy Weasley rather than his twin brothers. . ."

The End


End file.
